The Spirit of Things
by AbstractConcept
Summary: WARNINGS: You can assume there was character-death in the untold back-story. SUMMARY: Snape is haunting Harry, but Harry’s the one wandering the halls at night like the undead. Told through a series of night-time encounters.


**The Spirit of Things**

"That one misspelled _Colloportus_," Snape said helpfully.

Harry jumped, his elbow jerking as he splashed ink across the unfortunate student's essay. "_Fuck_! Why the hell do you have to sneak up on me like that?"

Snape shrugged. "I'm a ghost. We drift on silent feet and all that rot. I suppose I could get some spectral chains and clink them if you really insisted." He sighed. "Seems awfully expected of one, though." He smirked over Harry's shoulder, awaiting his reaction.

Harry shut his eyes and breathed heavily for a few moments, feeling his heart rate slow. "Snape?"

"Yes?"

"Drop dead."

OoOoOoOoO

A small noise, and Harry spun. "_L-lumos,_" he said, mouth dry, and the resulting light shone through Snape's pale form.

"Jumpy, Potter?"

"No. Just...prepared."

The ghost arched a brow. "And what are you doing wandering the hallowed halls of Hogwarts in the dead of night? That's my job...now more than ever."

"I wasn't wandering. I was just patrolling."

"It's not your job, anymore. You're a lowly Transfigurations Professor, remember? They don't pay you enough for this."

"Old habits die hard."

Snape inclined his head. "You're preaching to what should have been part of the heavenly choir. Perhaps I'll accompany you."

OoOoOoOoO

"Out after curfew again?"

"Why are you here?" Harry rubbed his eyes. "Is following me about and criticising my grading really a rewarding vengeance?"

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"It's...too cold and dark."

"I'll come along. I could haunt the mattress. Squeaky bedsprings, doors that creak ominously; it's all the same."

Harry snorted. "How would that work? Ectoplasm as lubricant?"

"I wish I _could_ touch you," Snape sighed. _"What _a ding round the ear I should give you."

Harry left. "Go toward the light," he advised over his shoulder.

"_You're _the one who needs to see the light," Snape muttered.

OoOoOoOoO

"Less mandrake, Potter, unless you'd prefer unpleasant death to an uninterrupted night's sleep."

Harry paused, then drew his hand back. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Do you really think it'll work?"

"Of course it will work. I'm a Potions Master, remember?"

"Were. You _were _a Potions Master. Now you're just a dead guy who won't leave me alone."

"Would you _like _me to leave you to brew the Dreamless Sleep Potion alone, Potter?"

Harry shook his head blearily. "No. Don't leave me alone. I...can't do this anymore. I can't seem to rest."

He looked up at Snape, who understood. "Neither can I."

OoOoOoOoO

When the potion was finally ready, Harry retreated to his rooms, Snape still dogging his steps. Harry shut the door quickly behind him, but Snape floated in anyway. "Do you always have to walk through walls?"

"Do you always have to walk on water?"

Harry crawled beneath the covers. "Bottoms up," he remarked, tossing the vial back and plunking it down on his nightstand. "How long do you think it will take?"

"Not long."

Harry rested on his side, looking up at Snape. "Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"I have no better place to be."

Harry fell asleep.

OoOoOoOoO

In the morning light, Snape was nearly invisible, sunbeams pouring through his translucent body. "Good morning," he said quietly.

"Didn't you sleep?"

"Are you stupid? Ah, wait. I already know the answer to that one," Snape replied testily.

Harry stared at him, a funny look on his face. "You stayed all night."

"So?"

"I thought you were haunting me out of desire for vengeance."

"So?"

"You're not, are you?" Harry slowly grinned. "You _like _me; you want to _haunt _me," he taunted in a sing-song voice.

Snape threw a vase at his head.

Harry was sure he missed on purpose.

OoOoOoOoO

"Where do you go when you're not around me? I mean, I'm the whole point behind your existence, right?"

"Every time I think you couldn't possibly be more arrogant, your head swells up another size."

"No, really."

Huffing loudly, Snape frowned. "I roam the darkness bemoaning my wretched fate—and trust me, being in love with you just about qualifies. I emit disembodied laughter. For a change of pace, sometimes I make myself invisible and visit your class to throw chalk at you, then blame it on Peeves."

"You—what? Bastard."

Snape inclined his head as if accepting a compliment.

OoOoOoOoO

"Have you considered teaching again?"

"What?"

"Binns does it. Why not you?"

"Because half of potions is knowing when to hurl yourself in front of the idiot you're teaching, thus keeping him from actually learning from his mistakes."

"You could have a helper. Draco Malfoy is looking for work, and I know he was decent at potions, if crap at morality."

Snape mulled it over. "It would help pass the centuries," he admitted.

Harry broke into a brilliant grin. "You could go back to terrorizing the old fashioned way."

"I'll terrorize them any way I can," Snape promised.

"Oh, good."

OoOoOoOoO

"McGonagall says you're settling in nicely," Harry remarked, watching Severus glare at his quill, putting his hand through it several times before managing to pick it up.

Snape grunted. "Stupid solid objects," he muttered.

"You've settled in like billy-o, like you could just keep doing this for another thousand years."

"Potter, what is your point?"

"When I'm gone...will you even notice?"

"You're leaving?"

Harry flung a book through him. "_No_, you idiot! I meant—when I'm _gone_."

Snape's face lit with understanding. "Ah."

"Will you? Will you miss me?"

"No."

Harry looked away.

"I think I'll probably come along."

"Oh."

OoOoOoOoO

"You never let me touch you."

Harry froze in the act of unbuttoning his robes. "You can't touch me. Not really. You're—not real."

"Real enough."

Harry turned away. "Look, it's sort of..._creepy, _the idea of dating a ghost."

"I see. But I'm one of the few who knows you. Understands you. Accepts you. Would you rather have someone like Malfoy? Talk about insubstantial."

"I just don't know."

"I'm willing to wait."

"How long?"

"Until you come to your senses or die. My bet's on the latter possibility." Harry opened his mouth, but Snape had already ghosted from the room.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry graded papers while Snape sat nearby, reading.

Harry kept glancing up.

"Have I got _ectoplasm_ on my face?" Snape asked sarcastically.

Harry flushed. "I was—wondering...what it would be like to kiss you," he trailed off into a mumble.

Snape arched a brow, rose and glided to Harry, cupping his chin. "Let's find out," he replied, pressing ghostly lips to Harry's.

Harry sighed, trying to rest a hand on an insubstantial shoulder. "That was really great," he breathed. "Tingly."

Snape smiled, running a cool finger down Harry's back, causing a shiver. "Glad you're getting into the spirit of things."


End file.
